Chapter 5 - The Boy in the Photograph
Elena’s face changed so completely that Vincent stood before he knew he was moving.
“Nico,” she whispered.
The investigator was already making calls.
Her sister answered.
Nico was at the kitchen table eating cereal.
He complained when the phone was handed over.
“Mom, it’s barely morning.”
Elena pressed her fingers against her mouth.
“Hi, baby.”
“I’m thirteen.”
“I know.”
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
Vincent watched her struggle to make the lie sound harmless.
Then she stopped.
“Actually, yes. I had a bad night. But I need you to listen to Aunt Lucia today.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain when I can.”
A pause.
“Are you coming?”
“As soon as it’s safe.”
The boy’s voice became smaller.
“Okay.”
The investigator arranged direct contact with authorities near Lucia’s home.
Elena handed back the phone.
Her hands were shaking so badly she could not fasten her coat.
Vincent reached toward the button.
She stepped away.
“Don’t.”
He lowered his hands immediately.
“This is because of you.”
“Yes.”
The word seemed to surprise her.
Perhaps she had expected a defense.
He had plenty available.
He had not sent the threat.
He had not known about the fire.
He had not ordered anybody to approach her son.
Every one of those statements was true.
None of them changed whose machinery had carried the threat.
Elena turned toward the window.
“For three years, I polished your silver while my son asked why his father wasn’t coming home.”
Vincent said nothing.
“I heard men call you honorable.”
Her voice cracked.
“I heard them thank you for your generosity.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
She looked at him.
“You know now. That isn’t the same thing.”
He accepted that too.
Later, after Elena had been taken to another room to rest, Vincent met his own attorney, Daniel Cho.
Daniel explained that cooperation could matter.
It would not erase the evidence of Vincent’s other conduct.
There were financial records, witnesses, and years of allegations.
If Vincent opened his books, he would be opening a door that might close behind him.
Vincent asked only one question.
“Can I make sure the families get money before everything is tied up?”
“Through a supervised process, possibly. You don’t get to decide privately who deserves what.”
The answer was hard.
It was also right.
By afternoon, Marcus called again.
This time, he sounded breathless.
“I saw the address.”
Vincent sat forward.
“On the letter?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“A parking garage.”
“Are you alone?”
“I think so.”
Miriam joined them.
Marcus spoke quickly.
“Rinaldi said you killed my father because he was taking money. Claudia said she had proof. They told me you’d already chosen someone else to run everything.”
“Who?”
“Her.”
Vincent looked toward the room where Elena was resting.
“What?”
“They said you were leaving her property. That she had something on you. That you were going to sell the family businesses and disappear.”
Vincent almost laughed.
The lie was outrageous.
It had also been carefully shaped around every insecurity Marcus possessed.
A dead father.
An uncertain inheritance.
A woman nobody had bothered to see until she became useful as an accusation.
“Did you know about the plan to kill me?” Vincent asked.
Marcus did not answer.
“Tell me.”
“Yes.”
The word barely carried through the speaker.
Vincent gripped the edge of the table.
“Did you know they threatened her son?”
“No.”
“Now you do.”
A muffled sob came through the phone.
For a moment, Vincent heard the child Marcus had been.
He did not let that child excuse the adult.
“You need a lawyer,” he said. “And you need to surrender.”
“They’ll kill me.”
“Then stop giving them time to find you.”
Marcus breathed unevenly.
“I took something from Rinaldi’s office.”
Miriam leaned toward the phone.
“What?”
“A recorder. He keeps copies of meetings. Insurance, he calls it.”
“Don’t alter anything,” she said. “Tell your attorney where you are.”
There was a noise.
An engine.
Marcus whispered, “Somebody’s here.”
The call ended.
Vincent stood so violently the chair fell behind him.
For thirty years, he would have responded by sending armed men.
Now there were no orders he could give that would make this better.
May you like
He picked up the chair.
Then he handed the phone to the investigator and told him everything.
